


Who Wants to Live Forever

by meridian_rose (meridianrose)



Series: I Have Inside Me Blood of Kings [1]
Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Community: hc_bingo, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Cross-posted on Dreamwidth, Curses, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Season 2 AU, Suicide Attempt, Timeline What Timeline, minor character survives, subtextual Leario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5390063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianrose/pseuds/meridian_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU from near the end of season two; Riario made a desperate attempt to end his life, but was denied the peace he hoped for. In fact not only does he live, it seems he cannot die. The obvious next step? Find Leonardo da Vinci, meddler in mysticism, and make him undo this curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Wants to Live Forever

The water was cold and it took his breath away but that was what he wanted, wasn't it, to stop breathing.

To shed his blood was not enough, Riario had wanted to be sure of his death, and had decided that if he was to throw away his life – worthless now, misspent, over – he ought to dispose of his body too. His corpse would wash up somewhere far downriver, bloated and decayed, unrecognisable, an ignoble end but no more so than what he deserved.

He had nothing. He was nothing. The true Pope himself had said so.

His body fought not to give in, base instincts struggling against his will, but the blood loss and the current finally won out. Death came not peacefully but at least mercifully. It was over.

…

He was cold and wet, and someone was dragging him over rough, muddy ground. Riario blinked his eyes and even that was painful. He was released, his head thumping against the dirt. He coughed up dirty water for maybe two minutes while the man who had seemingly pulled him from the waters watched with disinterest.

When Riario had regained enough composure to take stock of his situation he noted that his rescuer wore plain robes as if he belonged to a religious order, but he also had a dagger visible at the top of his right boot.

"Brother Riario. You will be One with us," the man intoned when he apparently thought Riario was in a fit state to hear the words.

Riario had no idea what he meant but from those thin lips in that calm mask, it sounded sinister. When you saved someone's life, especially against their will, you ought to muster up some emotion. "Who are you?"

"You will walk the Labyrinth," the man said and there something empty in his eyes, as if he were a vessel and not a man. 

Riario had seen one or two men in his life who had descended into madness by way of faith. Long ago, at the monastery where he had been raised, there had been an incident and the brother in question had been…asked to leave, the official story went, but as an adult, remembering the glimpse of the blood in the man's cell and the horror on the abbot's face, Riario doubted that was what had happened.

He didn't trust this stranger as far as he could throw him and in Riario's weakened state that would not be far. Out of habit Riario reached for his dagger but he'd dropped both his blades into the river when he had sacrificed himself. His sword though was still in its sheath, if he could manoeuvre into a position where he could draw it.

He sat up, noting that his wrists were torn but no longer bleeding. "I have no desire to walk that path," Riario said.

"You will," the man said.

Riario held out a hand, turned pleading eyes. "Of course. Then, please, help me up."

Like a fool, the man reached for Riario's hand. He was pulled off-balance for his troubles and Riario punched his cheek. The man struggled and they wrestled. The stranger's blade was drawn but adrenaline gave Riario renewed strength and he grabbed for the man's wrist and turned the blade. A few moments later and the stranger was dead, his own blade buried in his heart.

Riario felt a moment of remorse. He'd just killed someone who had tried to save him. No, that the man had seemed so sure of purpose suggested he was no innocent. He'd been waiting for Riario, had addressed him by name. Brother, he'd said. The Labyrinth. Riario had been justified in defending himself from the cult the man must belong to.

Yet why defend himself at all? He'd wanted to die. Surely he had died. How was this possible?

Confused, weary in mind, body, and soul, Riario limped off into the night.

…

Riario headed for Florence for reasons he couldn't explain to anyone, let alone himself. It was partly for the fact that da Vinci would be there; there was no use denying it. Leonardo had told Riario there would be no absolution and, irritatingly, he had been right.

Riario didn't think Leonardo would gloat, however. He hoped that Leonardo might reconsider his position on the subject of being allies and take him in for a time. He'd always respected Leonardo's intellect and he'd developed a respect for the man himself, and the devotion the artist inspired in his friends, and even a fondness for the genius. Leonardo, who was everything wrong with the world, but who believed fervently he could make everything right.

No, he wouldn't gloat. Still, Riario tugged his sleeves, barely dry even now, over the shameful scars, evidence of his weakness.

Riario planned on selling one of his rings, and his crucifix, at the next town, desperate for the cash. He wasn't hungry and he drank only from the town well, but he couldn't walk all the way to Florence and he would have liked to replace his daggers besides.

Maybe he had not been as forsaken as he believed, for while there was no-one willing to buy the jewellery, the blacksmith eyed Riario with fear and offered to make a trade. He took the offerings in return for a horse. Not a proud horse like Riario's own, but a serviceable mount.

Riario made good time after that, riding as much as he could without killing the animal. He slept briefly when the horse needed to rest, scavenged food as the horse did, apples and berries enough to keep him from fainting from hunger. He had no money to buy food and no stomach for it even if he'd had the coin.

A few miles outside Florence, near midnight, he set up camp. Sleep came quickly but rest did not. He dreamt of the storm-tossed ship, the first time he'd nearly drowned. He dreamt of the cell he'd shared with da Vinci. He dreamt of Zita, and his mother, and all the others he'd killed, and he stood in a river of blood, his wrists adding to the torrent, but he could not die.

He woke weeping just before dawn. There was a rope attached the horse's saddle and Riario took it, expertly tying a noose. He chose a sturdy tree and called the horse over. He'd seen men executed this way. They would sit astride the mount with the noose about their neck, and then the horse was sent on its way while the rider stayed behind, hanged by their neck. If they were lucky their necks were broken and death came instantly. If they were unlucky they would dangle, choking, face purpling, until their agony finally ended.

Riario was lucky.

…

Or not. Riario woke, choking, hands grasping at the hessian constricting his throat. Panic swept over him and he thrashed about, unable to draw breath. The sun beat down upon him, mocking his struggle.

Death finally showed mercy once more.

…

Riario woke once more in the late afternoon. Now he was angry and afraid and these emotions overrode his panic. This time he drew his sword and he cut himself down. He sliced open his skin in the process and he fell heavily to the ground below, jarring one knee, and one wrist, and bruising his ribs. The horse, surprisingly still nearby, eyed him with what looked like derision.

"What Hell is this?" Riario wondered aloud.

The horse snorted and went back to cropping the grass.

…

The marks on his wrist remained but they were scars now, faded reminders of his first suicide attempt. His other injuries were healed within the hour and Riario was soon back on the horse. It was imperative he find da Vinci. If anyone had an explanation for this, it would be him.

It was almost dark when he came upon da Vinci's studio.

Later, he would wonder if it was a miracle, that he arrived with such perfect timing.

When it was over the studio was in flames and Leonardo was bleeding from a stab wound, but Andrea was alive and Carlo was dead. Riario, smarting from his own inability to die, had cut off the bastard's head, just to make sure. Leonardo had raised an eyebrow at that, but he was rather too busy bleeding to comment.

Andrea was fussing over the wound and Leonardo was letting him. Around them, people sought to put out the fire before it could spread.

"What are you doing here?" Leonardo asked.

"Dispatching your enemies," Riario said, because it seemed the wrong time to mention his troubles. Though he added, "You were right. There was nothing for me in Rome."

There was genuine sympathy in Leonardo's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Riario shrugged, gestured to the studio. "I am sorry for your own loss."

"I'll rebuild." Leonardo closed his eyes.

…

They spent the night in The Barking Dog, Leonardo's favourite tavern once upon a time, where Vanessa had worked as a lowly barmaid before fate had lifted her into the Medici's hands. Like the rest of Florence, the tavern was the worse for wear, but it was dry and better than sleeping outdoors.

Riario wondered if he was the reason for the choice of venue. Leonardo poured all four of them generous drinks (Zoroaster had shown up, scowled at Riario, and was now pretending Riario wasn't there) and rambled about how he'd broken into the palace to save Florence, never realising Carlo was a traitor.

If even half of this was true then Leonardo was a hero, and his dear friend was about to birth a Medici heir at the palace, and they could surely have gained a room for the night. Yet Riario's presence would have complicated things. So he bore Zoroaster's barely concealed hatred without a word.

When Andrea and Zo had drifted off to sleep, Leonardo beckoned Riario over to a quiet corner near the fireplace.

"I don't think I've thanked you yet. I'd have liked to kill Carlo myself, but nonetheless, I'm grateful. Andreas and I may well owe our lives to you."

Riario shrugged again.

"No. Don't do that." Leonardo tipped his head. "Since when do you refuse to take credit for something? What happened to you, Riario? You said you went back to Rome."

Riario nodded. He swallowed and began his story. Calmly, quietly, as if relating someone else's tragic tale, he told how he was denied absolution, how he'd lost everything, how he had waded into the river. 

"I'm cursed," he blurted out, losing his composure as he came to the part where he lifted the blades to part his flesh. He displayed the scars. "I took my life. I shed my blood and I drowned in that river. I was dead, but I could not die."

Leonardo stared at him. "You're not dead," he said in the careful tone of voice one used on an unstable and armed opponent.

"I died," Riario repeated, and then he told of being dragged from the water, and killing the stranger and Leonardo paled at that, and muttered for a few minutes about "those pricks, the Enemies of Man" before he decided that "we can deal with that later."

"It's good that you killed him," Leonardo surmised. "What happened then?"

Riario told him that he'd made his way to Florence because he had nowhere else to go, but the weight of all he'd done was too much.

He explained how he'd hanged himself and died twice. Leonardo's eyes widened. The artist's fingers reached out and Riario froze. Leonardo's fingers were gentle as he caressed the skin at Riario's throat. He would find no rope burns.

"It heals. Everything heals," Riario said, hating that tears were welling up once more. "Except these scars. They remain, a reminder of my shame. A sign of my curse."

"You're not cursed," Leonardo said, but he sounded a touch hesitant.

Riario looked heavenward out of habit. He sat down in front of the fireplace, steeled himself and, before Leonardo could react, thrust his own hand into the flames.

Leonardo swore and grabbed at him. It was too late to prevent any damage. Riario's skin was blistered, his fingers red raw. Tears of pain rolled freely down his cheeks. His hand felt as if it were still aflame. The irony of it all, if he were to be proven wrong now!

"Wait there," Leonardo said and disappeared to rummage behind the bar. He returned a minute later with water and bandages.

"There is no need," Riario said with relief, wiping at his face with his undamaged hand. "You see, I am already healing."

Leonardo nearly dropped the bowl of water. He caught himself in time and placed down the supplies. He sat alongside Riario and nodded, asking for permission, and Riario bowed his head in return.

Leonardo took Riario's hand in his, keeping away from the worst of the burns, inspecting the fingers that were already turning pink. New flesh was rapidly covering the burns and most of the blisters were already gone. Riario himself was rather fascinated by the process.

"As I said, I am cursed."

"How is this a curse?" Leonardo asked.

"I cannot die," Riario pointed out. It was obvious, surely. "I will never find peace. I will never see Heaven."

Fresh tears sprang to life, this time a spiritual pain that would not be so easily pushed aside. He wept, mourning his losses, all of them, including his own life. After a moment, Leonardo slipped one arm around him, cradling Riario against him.

"It's all right," he said. "I will find a way to fix this."

"How?" Riario asked, regaining control once more.

"I don't know yet. I don't understand how this works, what is happening. If somehow you're immune to death will you even age?" Leonardo wondered.

"I am not immune," Riario corrected.

"No. You still suffer injuries but you recover." Leonardo released him, shifted position to look into his eyes. "This is fascinating."

Marvellous. Riario would be Leonardo's latest pet project. He'd seen what happened to the early iterations of Leonardo's devices and didn't relish the thought. "Maybe to you."

"Is the prospect of eternal life so terrible? Think of all the things you could accomplish." Leonardo's eyes shone at the prospect.

"To be denied God's mercy?"

Leonardo let out a long sigh. "I could mention that according to your faith, Heaven would have been denied to you if you had stayed dead."

Unfortunately, he had a point.

"Hell, then."

"You don't deserve Hell," Leonardo said with a rapidity that surprised and gratified Riario, even if it was followed up with, "No-one deserves Hell."

"No?"

"Not for eternity," Leonardo said. "To make amends, some penance, maybe, but eternal damnation is just…unthinkable. Sadistic. Which, by the way, how is eternal life worse than Hell? At least on earth you can still pray, still do what you think is God's will, try to do good."

Riario considered for a while. "This is your fault."

Leonardo blinked at that. "How is this my fault?"

Riario had no idea, no clue why he'd said it, save for the fact that before Leonardo had come into his life nothing particularly mystical or strange had ever happened to him. He deflected with, "It is surely not mine!"

"You're the one who tried to kill yourself. At least twice!" Leonardo glared at him. "You want penance? Well, maybe this is your punishment!"

Riario glared back at him. He clenched his fist, the skin now fully healed. "Then you agree this is a curse?"

"A curse is a label you are choosing. I would see this as a gift."

"Of course you would," Riario said more snidely than was necessary. "We don't yet understand the limits of it. What if I am decapitated? Will that be an end to it, or must I survive as merely a head?"

Leonardo tried and failed to stifle a laugh and despite, or because, of the circumstances, Riario laughed too, if with a touch of hysteria.

"All right. Let me think. Maybe it's something you've come into contact with," Leonardo said. "Some mystical artefact." He scratched absentmindedly at his stab wound.

"That is your speciality." Riario frowned. "Leonardo?"

"Hmm?"

"How's your wound?"

Leo looked down at it. A strange expression crossed his face. He pushed aside the bandages to reveal the rapidly healing cut. "Oh…"

Riario felt a surge of triumph. If Leonardo shared his predicament perhaps now he would understand the gravity of the situation.

"The Vault of Heaven," Leonardo said in a hushed tone, brushing his fingertips over the wound. "We both entered the Vault. I wonder…"

He fell silent, and Riario said nothing, letting Leonardo's clever mind consider all the possibilities. If anyone could figure this out, it would be da Vinci.

And if not, well, while Riario wasn't yet ready to admit it, he was relieved that, if indeed he was doomed to an endless immortal life, he would not be alone.

**Author's Note:**

> For the hurt/comfort bingo prompt "cursed". I thought Riario might well see immortality as a curse rather than a gift and it would be interesting to see the contrast with how Leonardo would approach it.
> 
> This is intended to be a complete story for the prompt, but I might be tempted at a later date to write more in this AU*, and explore the "rules" about what being immortal entails here (I deliberately included the "beheading" as a Highlander reference, the only way such immortals can be killed) and how injuries/scars/healing work. ~~And more Leario. Always more Leario.~~  
>  Also the title is a Highlander reference, one of the songs from the soundtrack by Queen.  
> *ETA: this fic is now part of a series "I have inside me blood of kings" :)
> 
> I'd be remiss if I did not mention [Make me feel so alive](http://archiveofourown.org/works/839815) \- by [j_gabrielle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle) which is an Immortal AU that every Leario fan should read. The first time I read it I commented that it could be canonical, with my preference being the Vault of Heaven as instigator, given that Riario survived a compound fracture and a rather determined suicide attempt (and he was told he had died and was revived, which might be mystical bs as part of the brainwashing, or could be true) and Leonardo survived a nasty stab wound which he's pretty much forgotten about by the start of season three. Immorality almost makes more sense than not! It's not a direct inspiration for this fic but it certainly made me think about the possibilities.


End file.
